


When Things Get Hairy

by dragonquesttbh



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Bad Flirting, Banter, Curses, Enby Sylv!, Faris wants to build a socialist utopia and no one can stop him, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hair Brushing, Innuendo, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Various hedgehog jokes at Erik's expense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonquesttbh/pseuds/dragonquesttbh
Summary: A disgruntled Erik finds himself in bed with a cuddly Luminary. What Happens Next May Shock You
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Prince Faris/ Toilet Guy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22
Collections: Valenslimes Day 2021





	When Things Get Hairy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eboi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eboi/gifts).



> Hi eboi! You mentioned you like when Erik and El's hair is described so I based a whole fic around it?
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys reading <3
> 
> Mildly spicy and suggestive themes ahead! (I think Erik says shag once or twice)

Erik growls, dust clouds swirling against sandy brick. Useless. Sitting here, roasting in the sun, stuck within these stupid city walls while his Luminary battles in the desert. Stupid leg. It had been saving El that got him here, claw marks streaked across his thigh by a stupid fucking dragon thing that lunged for his Luminary's throat. 

He could still feel El's hair tickling over his cheek as he leant over his bed. Fresh apples. Sweet blossom. Clouding his senses as El's mouth pressed to his forehead. Lingered there. Along with a whispered promise to return soon, to sit with Erik in bed as he healed. Soft hair cradling his jaw. 

Only that had been three hours ago. And Erik was notoriously bad at taking advice. 

Anything could have happened. El needed him there. 

He said he'd always be by his side. Liar. 

Trapped, useless, barely able to walk. 

It couldn't be worse. 

"Oh! My dear friend!" 

Erik curses himself. He broke the first rule, the only rule– he may not be a crook anymore, but the Thief's Code did offer some words of wisdom. Never say things couldn't get worse. They always can. 

Faris flops down on the barrel beside him. 

"Admiring the gorgeous Gallopolitan architecture are we? Ha HA!" He offers a clumsy wink and a thumbs up. "I see you have a keen eye."

"It was built by slaves," Erik spits into the dirt. 

He sees Faris tense. Not that he cares. Why is he here? Doesn't he have anything better to do? Probably not. What is if royalty do other than fuck around and spend everyone else's hard earned (or stolen) money. 

Faris leans forward, pressing his hands to his knees as if about to stand. He doesn't. Curse him. 

"Nothing can make up for the tragedy involved in the creation of our beautiful city." Heavy eyes fell to the ground. "However, Father and I are doing our best to care for those hurt by the cruel misgivings of our ancestors. Every Gallopolitan is equal in my eyes. Father is more... reluctant to relinquish his wealth, but today FINALLY my proposed redistribution plan has been put into action, it works so..." 

Erik softens. The hurt shifts to his throat, not his fists. A low blow. Faris had changed. There was no cruelty in his heart, only hope. 

His shitty day had no right to impose on Faris' goodwill. 

"Faris," he sighs. 

"Mm?" 

"Just think that sounds cool, yknow? You'll be a great Sultan one day." 

Faris beams, and the people of Gallopolis are right– there's a smile as bright as the sun. And Erik finds a little sunshine soak into himself. 

"That may well be so but," Faris leans across his barrel, palm to cheek, "prime minister. I want to be prime minister. An elected official with a fully elected governing body! If my people choose me, that is..." Faris kicks his feet happily in the air, sandals catching the fading sunset. 

Erik's eyes meet his. 

"I will support whatever decision they make. That is what a democracy is for, no?" 

Erik huffs, unable to hide his disbelief. It was one thing Faris being kind hearted, but another to plan an entire political upheaval. 

"I know, how shocking! A monarch who wishes to abolish the monarchy. It is my boyfriend, you see. He is the smartest man I know! He teaches me all these wonderful things! I can list 53 and a _half_ toilet brands." He winks clumsily, as if he has a clump of sand in his eye. 

"What's his name?" Erik asks, allowing a little more of the Faris sunshine to seep in as the air grows cold. 

It's good. It's distracting. He's not thinking about El. 

"Lou." Faris smiles, turning to face him. "He won't be long, you know? I have it on _very_ good authority that a certain Luminary cannot wait to reunite with his dashing rogue!"

Erik splutters, hand smacking to the wall to stop himself from tumbling into a pile of horse manure. "Don't listen to a word Sylv says. They know nothing." 

"It is the accusations we deny most vehemently that are the truest." Faris' eyes sparkle as he gently elbows Erik's ribs. 

Erik scowls, fighting a smile. 

"A kiss from a Prince heals all manner of ills," Faris teases, tipping his head towards Erik's leg. 

"Are you calling me a frog?" 

Faris giggles, and Erik finds it's not nearly as grating as before. With people like Faris in charge, maybe things were looking up. 

Two sentiments that would have made me vomit at the start of this journey. 

Faris pats a single blue spike, marveling as it instantly springs back up. Untamable. 

Erik's scowl deepens. 

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I believe frogs are green, not blue?" 

Before Erik can utter a response, he freezes. No. Not him. 

His muscles leap into action, leg stinging with fresh pain. 

A distant scream, shrill. His. 

Head pulsing, Erik pelts for the inn. He hadn't noticed them passing, idiot, stupid fucking moping hedgehog. No time to think. No time to rest. Hands scrabble for his scabbard. The innkeeper shoots him a dirty look. 

Knife poised, his boot kicks open the door. He rushes forward, ready to tackle the threat—

A scathing look from Sylv. Scary, but by far better than he expected. 

Oh. 

That's much worse. 

El, curled up on the bed, nose runny and eyes red. 

Erik drops his knife, quietly shifting onto the bed in front of him. Slowly, he peels away one of El's sticky hands. 

"Hey partner, what's wrong?" 

"Erik!" he clings on like a limpet, and Goddess forgive Erik for not wanting him to let go. "You're safe." 

"We can call off the search party then," Sylv groans. 

El's grip turns white on Erik's wrists. "D-Don't let them cut it. Please." 

"I won't, I won't," he whispers softly, not yet knowing what he was promising and only that he'd fulfill it. 

He spots Sylv's hand in his hair. A knife in the other. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snaps, smacking Sylv's dagger away and sending it flying across the room. "He doesn't want your stupid makeover. Get OFF him before I make you!" 

"Honey," Sylv says, voice low and drawn out as if scolding a child, "there is a golden globule in his hair and if I don't cut it out now, it'll spread and I'll have to cut it all." 

"Please don't. Erik, _please_. Help me!" El's eyes fill with tears. 

Sylv's mouth tightens, throat bobbing. 

Gold. A sizeable chunk spreading in El's hair. Erik's heart splinters like a frizz to the ribcage. 

He knows this. He's researched every cure to every gold affliction there is. His forehead bunches, fists tight in the bedsheet. 

"Desert rose!" he exclaims. "I need a desert rose, crushed, mixed with holy water and it'll be fine. Melt right off. All your hair, intact."

El's eyes widen. 

Sylv nods briskly. "Hold his hair honey, I'll be right back." 

Erik scoops his arms around El's neck, gently holding the hot metal steady. The door hatch clicks distantly. 

But all he could focus on was El: eyes soft, cheeks dewy, mouth tight. Inches away. On a bed. Erik settled partly on his lap. 

"We'll get it out, I promise." 

El nods solemnly. Erik's thumb brushes away a tear. 

"Sad doesn't suit ya, silly sunshine boy. Anything I can do to help?" 

"You're the silly," El gulps, shuddering. "Not crying coz I'm sad anymore, hedgehog boy. I'm crying coz I'm happy you're safe." 

"Oh," Erik manages, face suddenly hot. 

El's fingers brush his thigh. Erik flinches. 

"Sore?" 

"No just, uh, li'l edgy, cos when I'm this close to people I'm usually either stabbin' or shaggin'–" Erik sucks in a breath, face scorching. His head falls into his hands. 

"Erik think before you fucking speak you bumbling bellend, I'm so sorry El–" 

El tumbles forwards, arms wrapping around Erik's waist. His head falls on his shoulder, body shaking with laughter. His eyes sparkle with mischief. 

"I'd prefer if you didn't do the first one, sweet." 

"Oh so the second option is fine?" 

Erik clenches his jaw. Again. That stupid tongue of his. This is why he'd always let Derk do the talking in their cons. 

El stilled, face pressing to Erik's neck. His arms circled lower, resting on bare waist. 

"Well I'm a little surprised you've got anyone into bed with how awkward you are." 

"Hey!" 

El bites his lip, gazing up from his cradle on Erik's shoulder. "All the ladies and gents at the bar think you're so _sexy_ and mysterious. But I know you. You're clumsier than a cyclops and think jam goes on pasta." 

"Hey! Mmph." 

Erik can't be mad. Not when El does this: melts into his body like they were made to fit together. 

"Jam is a sauce so it can go on pasta," he mumbles, though little force is behind it. "Duh." 

He realises he sounds just like Mia. Childish and stubborn, but without her fire. 

El nuzzles his face back into Erik's neck. His breath tickles Erik's chin. 

"You're perfect." 

Erik's heart stops. Or thuds a thousand times harder. He isn't sure. 

Sylv bursts through the door with the flourish of a kick Erik didn't know they were capable of. He should know better than to underestimate Sylv. 

"Oooh, rather intimate, aren't we?" 

"Shut the fuck up and put it on the bed, Sylv." 

Sylv drops the bowl on the bed like it burned their hand. "Oh, bit touchy are we? El honey, see if you can't try iron that nasty little mood out of him?" 

El snorts. "I'll do my best with Spikey the Hedgehog." 

Sylv offers a wink and a salute. Erik growls. 

"So grumpy," El says weakly, heartbeat quickening against Erik's chest. 

Oh shit. The hair. Erik had almost forgotten the expanding patch of warm gold in his hand, what with his partner describing him as sexy and mysterious. And well, clumsy with poor culinary skills, but Erik was going to focus on _sexy_ and _mysterious_ instead. 

"Right uh, shit..." Erik wriggles awkwardly, kneeling, his hands still looped around El's neck. "Can't see all that good." 

"Just shuffle up, my love." El's hands drop to his hips, drawing him in. El's knees slot nicely between his thighs, weight partially pressing down on him. Erik leans over, bodies hot and tangled.

Not in the way he'd like, though. Goddess forgive him again for the impure thoughts he had about her holy representative on Erdrea. 

But combing desert dust through your would-be beau's hair was exactly as sexy as it sounded. 

El tenses beneath him, head buried into Erik's chest. He was scared. Now was not the time to be thinking nasty thoughts. 

Silently, he strokes more of the mixture through the long silky strands of El's hair. It's so soft, so gentle. But also a little ridiculous, no one else had a hair cut quite like this, with good reason. Soft, gentle, silly– that pretty much sums him up. 

Scant seconds later, hard gold melts into shimmering light. Soft hair slips through his fingers. Lightly, Erik strokes through the strands, hoping to rouse the clingy prince. 

El's head shuffles, deep blue eyes wide. "Did it work?" 

"Just as well as my flirting always does," Erik hums, offering a wink. 

Only because he knows it makes El laugh. No other reason. None whatsoever. Anything to see that smile, even at the expense of his much protected pride.

"Oh goddess," El deadpans. "I'm doomed." 

"You know, you're nowhere near as sweet as I once thought. You're a Grade A tricky devil." Erik pouts, shoving at El's chest. 

El grins mischievously. 

All Erik gets is a breath. One, brief, breath. 

Then a mouthful of silky, freshly un-cursed, locks. He coughs, body shaking as he's yanked down– bodies shaking– he's on top of El, in bed, his head on El's chest, El's arms around his waist, in bed. Just El, El, El and more El. 

A happy hum tickles through Erik's spikes. 

Erik smiles, a secret pressed to El's chest. 

"Thank you, my love." 

"Anytime, sugar." 

His breath rasps, El's fingers in his hair. Gently dragging over his scalp, soft and firm. Goddess it feels good. So fucking good it should definitely be illegal. 

But Erik had never been one for the law. 

Which is why he feels like he might commit several felonies when El drags his fingers across his scalp again, lightning bolts shivering down his spine. 

"You like it when I do that, don't you?" 

Steam shoots from his ears. Erik presses up on his elbows, glaring down at his, no, _the_ Luminary. 

"You know how fucking filthy that sounds?" 

El simply smirks. Goddess he wants to kiss the smugness off his face. 

He decides to edge closer, a safe compromise. Well, about as safe that time he jumped off a fucking cliff. 

"All the ladies and gents at the bar think you're so fucking _nice_ and sweet," he cooes, mimicking El's teasing tone. "But I know you. You're the fucking Darkspawn." 

"Do you..." El's hand slips into his hair and Erik bites back a curse. "Do you pay attention to the ladies _and_ the gents?" 

Oh. Well if El was asking... 

"Just the gents really... Hm. Unless a lady's wearing a very expensive ring." His own breath fans his lips, bouncing off El's cheek. 

He wants to taste, to feel– but he just swallows instead. 

"I don't pay attention to either," El murmurs, bringing his lips to Erik's ear. "I only pay attention to you." 

Erik has barely a second to gasp before his mouth is met with warmth. His. The same hands that gently dragged over his scalp pull taught in his hair. The shiver is intense. All encompassing. 

He kisses back, eager, hungry, tasting– disbelieving? 

El breaks away, laughing. He wipes drool from his chin. "Hey, calm down on the tongue would you, Mister! Do you always kiss like that?" 

Erik grins sheepishly. "Shuddup. You came onto me, farmer boy. 'Sides, Derk never had any complaints..." 

"Should've known that was Derk's dodgy handiwork. Get feedback from anyone else?" 

"Just you. Shows, huh?" Erik's face burns, and all of a sudden he wants to be anywhere but here, away from this cursed sweltering city and this cursed sweltering bed with this (no longer) cursed boy. 

He couldn't even let the relief seep in that El wanted him too when he'd clearly soured the mood with his inexperience. 

"I think it's cute." El pecks Erik's ear. 

Erik rolls his eyes. 

"As if you've kissed more people, country bumpkin." 

"Well there was Gemma, before I knew I preferred men. Then there was Taylor, the, well, tailor. Tommy who used to deliver mum's cabbages to market. Faris, but that was kinda weird. And then there was..." 

"Sorry, Faris?!" 

"Yeah, just the one night though."

"Did you..." 

El suppresses a smile. 

"Well, huh. It's always the quiet ones." 

El giggles. Then his smile stops short. "Oh! Did I hurt your leg? You know, pullin' you down like a sack of hay?" 

His leg tingles under the brush of El's hand. "Mmph."

"You like that don't–" 

"Shut up! I'm serious." Erik pushes up on his elbows. "I don't wanna get too heated, and, y'know, I'm kinda tired and it hurts a little..." 

"C'mere." 

Erik curls into El's arms, smiling softly. Lips peck his cheek. He squirms, until he feels those heavenly fingertips smooth through his spikes. He sighs, a little embarrassed but warm inside. 

"You know, I only said that stuff 'bout your kissing so I could teach you some more?" 

Erik splutters. "What?" 

"I didn't mean to be rude. You just normally smile when I tease you."

"Doofus," Erik groans, hiding his smile. 

"Takes one to know one," El jabs. 

Erik's head lifts from El's chest with a start. 

"Wait, s'not just one night, right? I don't really do that, not that I'm passing judgment, I think people should do whoever whenever all the time and–" 

"Shhh. I was thinkin', you and me, us..." El's hand slots into Erik's. "'Til I decide to change my hair up." 

"But you said you never wanna change your hair– Oh!" 

El giggles, rubbing a circle into Erik's back. 

Erik sighs happily. "Twat." 

"Yeah," El sighs. 

Erik glances up at his partner. "Me too. I wanna be with you and your ugly haircut forever." 

"Okay hedgehog boy," El says with a smile. "If you insist." 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valenslimes! 
> 
> I love the idea of Erik being terrible at flirting and El being the one who makes the move :-) 
> 
> Drop me a kudos or a comment if you enjoy hair based content (?)
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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